Captain’s log, stardate 62104.1:

The Dauntless has returned to Erma, known in Federation scientific logs as Capria IV, to observe the progress that planet’s society is making toward a united world government and eventual membership in the Federation.

Koester, commanding Dauntless, out.

“Entering standard orbit, Commander,” Ensign William Hyland III announced. Commander K’danz looked up at the viewscreen, where the Earth-like planet Erma settled in the center of the screen, one of the planet’s two manned space stations visible in the distance. A small vessel could be seen moving away from the orbiting outpost and turning toward the Federation starship.

“Bridge to Captain Koester,” K’danz said after touching the intercom on the arm of the command chair. “I believe the Erminians are sending us a welcoming committee.”

“I’ll be right out, Carrie,” replied the voice of Captain Peter J. Koester, the starship’s commanding officer. Seconds later the captain emerged from his ready room to the right of the main viewscreen. He paused near Hyland at the helm console, looking at the viewer, where a shuttlecraft-sized vessel continued to move closer.

“Have they contacted us yet?” the captain asked.

“Not yet,” K’danz replied a moment before the Klingon officer manning the tactical console on the executive officer’s right spoke.

“We’re being hailed, Commander,” Lieutenant Rinja Ka’Dan announced. “Audio only.”

“On speakers,” K’danz ordered.

“Dauntless! On behalf of President Hzud and the citizens of the Erminian Confederacy, welcome back to Erma. We request permission to dock.”

“Erminian shuttle, this is Captain Peter J. Koester of the Federation starship Dauntless. We thank you for your welcome. Stand by and prepare to land in our aft shuttlebay.” He then turned toward Ka’Dan and said, “Lieutenant, have Colonel McIntyre arrange an honor guard in his shuttlebay and inform Ambassador Fil that we have guests arriving. Then make sure the deck officer knows the arriving ship will not be aware of our landing procedures and that he’ll need to tractor them in the whole way.” The captain then turned back toward the screen, where the small ship was now only a few hundred meters away. “Erminian shuttle, we are opening the doors on shuttlebay two now.” Koester then started walking toward the turbolift next to Ka’Dan’s station as he said, “I’ll be in shuttlebay two greeting our guests, Exec.”

“Aye, Skipper,” K’danz replied.

Space, the Final Frontier…

These are the voyages of the starship Dauntless!

Star Trek: Dauntless

“Diplomatic Overtures – Part 2” By PJK

In the aft shuttlebay, a line of six Starfleet Marines in dress uniform and holding pulse rifles at present arms extended from the hatch of the Erminian spacecraft. At the end of the line stood Captain Koester, Federation Ambassador-at-Large Admiral Penji Fil, Chief of Security and Marine Contingent Commander Lt Colonel Sean McIntyre and Chief of the Boat (COB) Master Chief Pono Kyman, waiting for their guests to emerge from the ship.

After several seconds, the latch on the small vessel’s hatch spun and the hatch swung open. Two humanoid beings wearing silver space suits and helmets emerged. They appeared to look around for a moment before the first Erminian reached up and released the latch on his helmet, twisting it off his head to reveal a dark-skinned man with amazingly blue eyes. He took a deep breath, a smile appearing on his face as he apparently approved of the smell of the starship’s recycled air.

The first Erminian astronaut looked around the shuttlebay with an expression of amazement, staring in wonder at the two Marine Hornet fighters stowed across the bay from his ship as the second Erminian also removed its helmet, revealing a female Erminian with long, almost silver hair. After several more seconds, both astronauts stepped forward toward Koester, who waited to greet both with a handshake.

“Welcome aboard the USS Dauntless,” Koester said before introducing Fil, McIntyre and Kyman.

“Samoht Dinghar,” the Erminian man said before gesturing toward his companion. “My associate Doctor Le’an Notnef. Welcome back to Erman, Captain. Your timing is fortuitous.”

“How so?” Koester asked as he gestured toward the door, leading his guests and crew, as well as two Marine guard escorts, toward the nearest briefing room, one normally used by the Marine Special Contingent for mission planning.

“You are just in time to witness the latest negotiation session between our government and the Min. President Hzud extends his invitation for you and your crew to attend this important meeting.”

Koester exchanged a look with Fil, pleased that Erma was well on its way unifying their society. Fil then looked at Dinghar and asked, “The Min have given up on violence as a way of trying to force your society to conform more to their own?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Doctor Notef replied. “While the Omar sits at the table with our negotiators, accepting the gifts of technological advances we give him and his people, Nedalbin stonewalls the whole peace process and his followers continue their attacks along our borders.”

“That doesn’t sound like anything has changed for the better,” Fil remarked.

“There have been some concessions,” Dinghar said. “The attacks have decreased over the last several months, and Amasa Nedalbin has said he will stop all attacks if the Federation were to oversee the next session.”

“What do you say, Penji?” Koester asked the Admiral.

“I’ll be there,” Fil replied before turning toward the Marine commander. “Colonel, I would like you and one of your men to accompany me.” After McIntyre shook his head, Fil looked back toward Koester and added, “I would also like the ship’s sociologist to accompany us.”

“Of course,” Koester replied. “When does the next session take place?”

“The day after tomorrow, in the border city of Minot,” Dinghar replied.

“We’ll be there,” Koester announced with a smile.

* * * *

The next morning, Captain Koester was reviewing a report on a padd his yeoman had handed him when Colonel McIntyre announced, “Captain, we’re being hailed from the surface.” When Koester looked over at the Marine officer, McIntyre added, “Audio and visual, sir.”

Surprised, Koester looked toward the main viewer as he said, “On screen.” The image of the planet was quickly replaced by a grainy video image of the Erminain President, Wegroeg Hzud, who sat behind a large, ornately carved wooden desk. Occasionally he looked over toward the side of the room, evidently looking at a monitor screen displaying the image of the Dauntless bridge instead of the camera set up in front of him to transmit his image to the orbiting starship.

“Good morning, Mister President,” Koester said with a smile, handing the padd back to his yeoman so he could concentrate on the conversation.

“Good morning, Captain Koester,” Hzud said. “Are you receiving my transmission satisfactorily?”

“The signal is a little weak, but I’m seeing you well enough. What can I do for you, Mister President?”

“I was wondering if you were planning on attending my negotiation with Nedalbin tomorrow, Captain?”

“Ambassador Fil will be attending with a small away team,” Koester said. “They are planning on beaming down about an hour before the meeting is scheduled to begin.

A look of disappointment covered Hzud’s face.

“I was really hoping you would attend personally, Captain. We’ve tried offering the Min our scientific advances, in the hopes they would see progress would help their people thrive and live better lives. But every advance we give them, the Min pervert into weapons to use against the Erminia. We gave them the formula for fertilizer so they can start growing crops for themselves, they use it to create explosives to blow up our cities. We give them global tracking technology, they install it into rockets to make their attacks on our cities more accurate. We give them medical technology to help grow and heal badly injured parts of the body…, the goddess knows what they’re doing with that? But it certainly isn’t being used to create hospitals and better health care! It’s maddening!”

“That’s one of the reasons the Federation instituted the Prime Directive of Non-Interference,” Koester informed. “We’ve found some primitive societies are worse off when given advanced technology they just aren’t ready for. That’s why we wait until after a society achieves warp drive before conducting first contact.”

“A society not ready for the advances they are given certainly seems to be the Min at the moment. They’ve been quite problematic since your last visit. Nedalbin will tell us one thing but allow his people to do exactly the opposite. Promise us peace but order his people to attack us. Our talks are at a standstill. But there are some among the Min who believe they should join with the Erminia, that only through cooperation will both our societies survive. Men like the Min guard who helped you after the terrorist attack on our first meeting. And believe it or not, Nedalbin has expressed a well hidden respect for you following that first meeting. I think your presence at the negotiations would go a long way toward getting him to sign an agreement with us he would abide by.”

“It’s not normal procedure for the captain to leave the ship under these circumstances,” Koester said, prompting Hzud to frown again. The captain hesitated a moment before adding, “But I guess I can bend the rules a little. The Exec won’t like it, but I’ll claim captain’s prerogative.”

“That’s wonderful,” Hzud said, a broad smile on his face. “I’ll make the arrangements to have you and your crew properly greeted when you arrive. Sending you coordinates now.”

“We are receiving the coordinates,” Lt Commander Phillip Winters confirmed from the ops console.

“Very well, Mister President. I hope my presence really helps. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Koester said. “Dauntless, out.”

“Until tomorrow,” President Hzud replied before the transmission ended.

* * * *

“I don’t like this, Peter,” K’danz said as the away team started to gather in the transporter room.

“I knew you wouldn’t,” the captain replied with a smile as he accepted a small type-1 hand phaser from the transporter chief and hid it under the back of his uniform jacket, unobtrusive and out of sight. “But President Hzud told me my presence at the negotiations might help move things along. I’d invite you to join us as well, but I’m not comfortable with so many senior officers off the ship at one time.”

K’danz stepped over to Admiral Fil, who had just arrived wearing his bone-white dress uniform.

“Keep an eye on Peter, Penji. I think he’s coming down with Kirk syndrome and I don’t want him getting into trouble thinking he can save the planet and get the girl all before the sun sets.”

“I’ll keep him out of trouble,” Fil assured the first officer. Moments later, Captain Koester, Admiral Fil, Colonel McIntyre, 1^st Lieutenant Michael Drake, Chief Science Officer Alasdair Wallace and the ship’s sociologist, Lieutenant Sam Anders, positioned themselves on the transporter platform while K’danz joined Chief Blackburn behind the transparent aluminum enclosed console.

“Coordinates entered, Commander,” Blackburn reported.

“Energize, Chief,” K’danz ordered. Seconds later, the away team vanished from the platform.

* * * *

The away team and members of the Erminian negotiating team sat at the summit table, which for the occasion had been set up in a triangle, one for the Erminians, one for the Starfleet crew and one for the expected Min delegation. Each side had four seats, one for each of the people who would help negotiate the treaty between the two dominant Erman cultures. On one side sat Admiral Fil, Captain Koester, Commander Wallace and Lieutenant Anders, with the two Marine officers, McIntyre and Drake, standing behind them near the wall keeping an eye on the scene around them. To the left of the Starfleet team sat the four negotiators for the Erminians, including President Wegroeg Hzud and his Chief of Staff, Terbor Keane, while several members of Erminian security likewise milled around the room, a couple of them glancing at the two Starfleet Marines with looks like distrust.

The third side of the table was empty. Arranged to accommodate Amasa Nedalbin, Omar of the Min, and his aides, it was more than an hour beyond when the summit had been scheduled to begin, and still no sign of the repressive, primative Min.

“Can I offer you and your crew some refreshment?” President Hzud asked, obviously embarrassed by the situation.

“Perhaps it would be better if my crew and I returned to the Dauntless and you can contact us if and when Nedalbin finally arrives?” Koester suggested.

Suddenly the large ceremonial doors of the room flew inward, slamming up against the walls behind them, and in strode Amasa Nedalbin, his three aides and two guards. As at the reception when the Dauntless crew first met the people of Erma, the Min wore dark, heavy and dirt-encrusted robes that covered all but their eyes. The captain still recognized Nedalbin nevertheless, if not for the distinctive look of his eyes and the way they penetrated anyone upon whose gaze they were set, but also for his attitude, the smug sense of superiority that seemed to fill the entire room.

All six of the Min paused just inside the room, staring at the Starfleet crew in near surprise, as if Nedalbin had not seriously considered that Koester and his crew would dare return to Erma. Then, with what seemed a renewed sense of purpose, the Min strode forward, taking their seats at the triangular table while Nedalbin’s guards positioned themselves a step behind and to each side of their leader, their eyes never straying from McIntyre and Drake.

“These are my demands,” Nedalbin said before President Hzud could even formally call the meeting to order. “I agree to your proposal for a united world government here on Erma.”

The eyebrows on President Hzud, Terbor Keane, Captain Koester and Ambassador Fil all rose in surprise. The captain waited for the other shoe to drop, however, refusing to believe the mere presence of his crew on Erma would force Nedalbin to agree so quickly.

“That’s good news,” President Hzud said happily. “I’m so glad you finally see reason, Amasa. I’ll have my Chief of Staff start writing up the formal treaty between our people, and then we can work out how we will integrate the Min into the Erminian Confederacy as…”

“I agree on the following conditions!” Nedalbin suddenly shouted, talking over President Hzud. Captain Koester rolled his eyes, having sensed this was coming. “There will be one world government as long as it is under the control and authority of the Min. Your blasphemous space program will be brought to an immediate halt. This planet will isolate itself from any contact with the demons of the air. And you will pledge yourself and your people to observing the laws of the Scrolls of Min!”

“That’s impossible!” Hzud exclaimed, slamming his fists on the table in front of him. “We’re here to negotiate a power-sharing agreement that would move our planet forward toward eventual entry into the Federation of Planets. Not backward a hundred centuries!” Hzud stood up, pointing his finger accusingly at Nedalbin and shouted, “Just because you like living in a tent in the middle of the desert with no food, little water, using people as slaves to do the work you yourself refuse to do and to leave your people as isolated and poor as you do doesn’t mean I’m going to do that to my people!”

Nedalbin also stood, his piercing eyes staring directly at Hzud as he said in a low and menacing voice, “You will one day obey the laws of the Scrolls of Min and be thankful for god’s guidance over your miserable lives. You will live as all our people were meant to live!”

“Perhaps you aren’t being as open-minded as you need to be, Omar Nedalbin,” Ambassador Fil said, attempting to defuse the tension in the room. “There would be many advantages, not only for the Erminians, but for your people as well, if you were to open a dialogue with the Federation. Take, for example, the water situation President Hzud mentioned. We can provide you with the technology you need to locate water almost anywhere on your planet, or to create it yourself.” Fil passed a padd with a demonstration of replicator technology displayed on it toward Nedalbin. The Min leader turned his attention from Hzud to Fil, pushing the padd away from himself and into the triangular opening at the center of the table without even glancing at it.

Fil looked at where the padd had fallen to the floor for a moment before addressing Nedalbin again. “We’re not requiring you to change your way of life. If you want to continue to live in tents in the desert, you can live in tents in the desert. But you can’t force the Erminians back to your way of life. And it would be better for everyone in the long run if you were to simply negotiate a method of sharing power on this world.”

“I have already stated how a power sharing agreement would work. There is no negotiating,” Nedalbin stated, crossing his arms in front of him as he resumed his seat.

“Surely there must be some way we can come to an agreement, Amasa,” Hzud pleaded. “Why come all this way to be here, to sit at this table not only with me but with the Federation representatives, if you intend to remain so stubborn?”

“We already have an agreement,” Nedalbin said, his eyes focused once again on the president. “I believe your phrase for it is, we must agree to disagree.”

* * * *

Captain’s log, supplemental;

In spite of the negotiation session lasting more than three hours, Nedalbin would not give a centimeter in his stance. He continues to demand the Federation leave and never enter the Capria star system ever again and that Hzud turn over his government to the Min, which intends to regress the advanced society back to the equivalent of Earth’s 6^th century.

With this round of negotiations wrapping up, the away team plans to beam back to the Dauntless soon.

The session had wound down to Nedalbin, his aides and guards silently staring at Koester, Fil and company while President Hzud and his staff squirmed uncomfortably.

“Perhaps we can schedule another meeting?” Chief of Staff Terbor Keane suggested helpfully. One of Nedalbin’s aides looked over at the Erminian statesman.

“Why? Do you need a few more days to arrange for your surrender?” The room then reverted to near silence.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of an explosion from outside.

“Oh no, not again,” Koester commented as everyone jumped out of their seats.

“It’s not too uncommon, sir,” one of the Erminian guards said as he started toward the entry door, throwing a nasty look at Nedalbin and his aides along the way. “The Min renegades are constantly attacking this city, with missiles built from the technology we gave them to try and advance their own society.”

Several more explosions could be heard, one of them close enough to shake the building where the negotiations were taking place, dust from the ceiling drifting down on the table.

“Evacuate the building,” the guard near the door ordered. Immediately the guards from all three sides started escorting everyone out of the building, not necessarily of their own delegation. One of the Erminian guards grabbed Ambassador Fil’s arm and lead him toward another building a block away, Drake, Wallace and Anders following. One of Nedalbin’s men grabbed Captain Koester likewise, leading him and Colonel McIntyre in a completely different direction, toward the border with the Min controlled region of the continent while the second Min guard rushed Nedalbin and one of his aides in a similar though different direction. The colonel could see several more rockets fly overhead, one of them exploding into the building the negotiators had just evacuated, the windows blowing out in the explosion, throwing the Marine officer face-down in the street. He looked up just in time to see Captain Koester and the Min guard escorting him disappear around a corner. McIntyre started to get up to follow but was forced back down to the ground again when more rockets exploded around him. About a minute later, the attack seemed to diminish, and McIntyre quickly picked himself up and headed in the direction he last saw the captain.

“McIntyre to Captain Koester!” the colonel said as he reached the corner to find several streets leading into a large plaza similar to those he had seen around the Italian peninsula. Unsure where to go, he tapped his combadge again, saying, “Captain Koester, please respond!”

Before a response could be heard, Wallace, Drake and Anders appeared from around another corner along with one of the Erminian guards, everyone covered in dust and debris from the damaged buildings around them.

“These attacks usually don’t last more than a few minutes,” the guard said. “They use the rockets they build faster than they can build them. I think we’re safe for now.”

“Where’s the Cap’n?” Wallace asked.

“One of Nedalbin’s guards grabbed him and took him this way,” McIntyre said, pointing toward the plaza. He started heading into the open space when, from a doorway on the other side, the captain and the Min guard emerged. Koester waved across the plaza at his crew.

“Okay, the captain’s safe. Now where’s Admiral Fil?” McIntyre asked.

“Commander Wallace to Admiral Fil,” the chief science officer said after tapping his combadge.

“Fil here,” came the quick reply. “I’m with President Hzud, Chief of Staff Keane and several of their security personnel in the bunker beneath the negotiation site. We’re shaken but safe.”

“That’s good to hear,” McIntyre said with a sigh. “Let’s go get the Captain and get out of here.”

The four Starfleet officers and the Erminian guard entered the plaza heading toward Koester and the Min guard across the way. They had not taken more than three steps when a shout from their right attracted their attention.

From one of the side streets another Min, his dark robes covering his face and body like all the other Min the Dauntless crew had met, came running out, shouting at the top of his lungs, straight toward Captain Koester.

“A Min suicide assassin!” the Erminian exclaimed, horror covering his face. McIntyre reacted, but not as quickly as 1^st Lieutenant Drake. The younger Marine officer started running toward the assassin, hoping to intercept him before he reached the captain and the Min guard that had positioned himself between the starship commander and the approaching killer, struggling to draw his sword.

“Drake! No!” the colonel shouted as he pulled his type II phaser out from under his uniform jacket. He tried to draw a bead on the running assassin, but he could not get the Min in his sights without either Drake or Koester and his guard being too close to the line of fire.

Drake likewise had pulled his phaser out and was trying to aim on the run, letting go several phaser beams that just missed the running Min. Seconds later, and with Drake less than five meters away, the assassin reached Koester and the Min guard, shouting again incomprehensively before detonating an explosives vest he was wearing. Drake was thrown backward through the air, landing hard on the ground more than ten meters from where he had started.

The rest of the away team rushed over to the site of the explosion, Wallace and Anders stopping to check on Drake while the rest ran to the burning crater where Captain Koester had been standing.

“Oh my God,” McIntyre said as he looked at the devastation. Buildings around that side of the plaza crumbled while the crater where the bomber had stood was at least a meter deep. Nothing remained of the suicide assassin except a few scraps of his robes. The Min guard that had tried to protect the captain was in little better condition, body parts strewn about the plaza and against the walls of what was left of the buildings.

Several meters away, the body of Captain Koester lay, still smoldering from the blast. His face was so badly burned as to be unrecognizable. McIntyre kneeled close to the captain, almost afraid to touch him, and carefully felt for a pulse. As he tapped his combadge he detected a very faint heartbeat.

“McIntyre to Dauntless! Medical Emergency! Lock onto my combadge signal and Commander Wallace’s signal, four to beam directly to sickbay!” He then looked at Anders and said, “Find the Admiral and get him back to the ship as soon as possible!”

“Aye, sir,” Anders replied, rushing back toward where the negotiations were held just as the transporter effect overtook McIntyre, Wallace, Drake and Koester.

* * * *

Sickbay was a hive of activity when K’danz and Dar rushed in. On one of the biobeds to the side, Doctor McCance worked on Drake, whose face and upper body were now covered with plastiskin bandages. But it was the activity around the operating table that concerned the first officer most.

“Cordrazine, 5cc’s,” MacMillan ordered, his hand reaching toward a nearby nurse as she passed the hypospray. K’danz could hear the hiss of the device, then the mumbled curse from the chief medical officer. She looked up at her husband, Dar, trying to fight back tears forming in her eyes. Dar wrapped his arm around his wife comfortingly.

“Direct reticular stimulation,” MacMillan ordered. Another nurse connected a device to the head of the operating table, the arms of which enclosed each side of the captain’s badly burned head. As the device was charged, Doctor McCance joined his superior in the operating area.

“Should we consider a spinal shunt?” the second doctor asked.

“No time. His pulse is barely readable,” MacMillan said, touching the control on the reticular stimulator. Koester’s body jumped as the energy entered his nervous system. MacMillan glanced at the medical diagnostic and mumbled another Gaelic curse. “Increase power fifteen milli-jules and try again.”

Koester’s body convulsed again, but still the diagnostic indicators did not move anywhere but down.

“Prepare for neuropolaric induction,” MacMillan ordered. Immediately one nurse removed the stimulator from the table as the surgical support frame moved up to enclose Koester’s body. As the doctors prepared to start operating, the doors to sickbay opened and Admiral Fil rushed in, pausing near K’danz and Dar.

“How is he?” Fil asked, a look of desperation covering the Catullan man’s face.

“It’s not looking good,” Dar admitted, his wife unable to speak as she choked back her emotions and buried her face in the half-Klingon’s broad chest.

“Doctor, he’s flatlining!” one of the nurses exclaimed as both doctors dropped the surgical tools they were preparing and rushed back beside the captain.

“Neural stimulator!” MacMillan demanded, quickly placing the small devices on each side of Koester’s badly burned face. McCance activated the stimulator, but there was no reaction. McCance activated the stimulators again, and again the body did not react. Tears started pouring out of K’danz’s eyes as the two medical officers discussed their options.

“Should we try direct heart stimulation?”

“Nay,” MacMillan replied. “Cordrazine, 20 cc’s, stat!”

“Twenty!” McCance exclaimed. “That’s enough to kill a human!”

MacMillan grabbed the hypospray away from the nurse who held it, who apparently was having trouble believing what was going on.

“If this doesn’t work, he’s dead anyway,” MacMillan replied as he pressed the hypospray to Koester’s neck, injecting the powerful drug with a prolonged hiss. McCance looked at the diagnostic display, smiling slightly when the pulse monitor jumped slightly. However, the joy was short lived as the monitor quickly bottomed out and did not move again. Sickbay became deathly quiet with the exception of the monitor above Drake’s biobed.

“Let’s call it,” MacMillan said as he glanced at the chronometer on the diagnostic panel. “Death occurred at 1727 hours.” He slowly pulled the silver sheet on the table up over the captain’s head, then turned to face Fil, Dar and K’danz. “I’m sorry. I did everything I could.”

K’danz wiped her eyes and, without saying a word, rushed out the doors. The doctor exchanged a look with both Dar and Fil before the admiral pounded his open hand over his combadge.

“Admiral Fil to Counselor Gera.”

“Gera. Go ahead, Admiral,” came the reply.

“Counselor, I need you to meet me in my office right away.” He then turned toward the doors to the corridor and disappeared down the hall.

* * * *

Several hours later, after Fil, Gera and K’danz had broken the news of her father’s death to Gem Koester, the First Officer was sitting in the command chair on the bridge. Many of the senior officer were gathered around her, bad news having traveled at warp speed throughout the ship, but still the official duty had to be performed.

“Attention all hands, this is the Executive Officer,” K’danz said into the intercom, her voice amplified throughout the starship. “As I’m sure most of you already know, our away team to the planet was caught in a terrorist attack this afternoon. It is my sad duty…”

K’danz paused, trying to fight the tears that were trying to seep from her eyes. She took a deep breath to compose herself before continuing.

“…It is my sad duty to inform you that Captain Koester was killed during the attack. I will keep the crew informed about any plans for a memorial service as soon as I know myself.” She took another deep breath before signing off, “That is all. Bridge, out.”

A couple of minutes passed before Admiral Fil emerged from the captain’s ready room. He quickly stepped up to the center seat, where K’danz continued to slouch.

“Carrie, I just had a conversation with President Hzud on the surface,” Fil said, urgency in his voice. “After the attack that killed the Captain, there have been several retaliatory attacks against the Min. Things are escalating. War is breaking out down there. We have to do something, they’re tearing each other apart down there!”

K’danz looked up at the admiral, anger in her eyes. She frowned as she said, “I declare Erma to be under the protection of the Prime Directive, and as such I wash my hands of the matter.” She then crossed her arms in front of her and added, “As far as I’m concerned, they can blow themselves back to the stone age.”

Fil was speechless, as were many of the crew around them. But as the Federation Ambassador at Large aboard the starship, he had no authority to override the acting-commander’s authority.

“Helm,” K’danz said to Lieutenant G’Raff, the Antican officer at the helm. “Lay in a course for Sector 0-0-1. Prepare to break orbit.”

“Aye, Commander,” the dog-like officer responded. “Course plotted and laid in.”

K’danz exchanged one more angry look with the admiral before finally saying, “Take us home, Lieutenant.”

The End

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